Dangerous Masquerade (Regency Masquerade)

Ria watched from the morning room window as the second carriage swept down the drive and disappeared. She only turned from the window when there was a knock on the door.

Flowerday entered, carrying a piece of paper on a tray. “Excuse me, madam, but we found this on the floor of the drawing room.”

As Flowerday left, Ria unfolded the paper. It was titled St. James Estate and confirmed her worst fears.

Among other things, it listed eviction of the ladies residing in the manor and raising the estate tenants’ rents to a level that would cause considerable hardship.

She collapsed onto a nearby light blue striped sofa before her legs gave way under her. It was the last straw. She buried her face in her hands and let go of the tears that had been threatening to choke her for the past few hours.

Weeping was a relief after everything that had happened in the past fortnight. Finding out what Geoffrey planned, worrying about what to do, making plans, and enduring today’s trial. Now it was over, she was free to break down.

Ria fleetingly thought about what had happened at the masquerade ball but didn’t allow herself to dwell upon it. Not now. Not yet.

From his usual vantage point by the hearth, Monty watched her, at a loss to know what to do.

He cleared his throat. “I’m so sorry, my dear, that you had to go through such an ordeal.”

After giving a somewhat unladylike sniff and blowing her nose, Ria looked at him. “I know, sir, but neither of us could come up with any other way out of it.”

A little voice in Monty, which some would call a conscience, disagreed. Monty mentally told it to be quiet. It was for the best. Certainly the best way forward for Ria, even if she didn’t know it.

Looking back down at Geoffrey’s list, she added, “There is no way the tenants could pay this. What was he thinking?”

Sighing deeply, Monty looked into the fire as though he would find an answer in the flickering flames. “The only explanation I can think of is he is in dun territory, probably been brought to point non plus. This is how he is going to raise money to pay off his creditors.”

Monty looked at her. “He was always extravagant.” Shrugging his shoulders, he added, “Maybe if his father hadn’t died when he was five, it would have been different. My sister devoted all her attention to him, and he grew up to be spoilt and selfish. And because of his looks, people assume he’s an angel, which doesn’t help.” Sighing once again, he added, “I should have stopped it, done something, but I told myself it wouldn’t hurt. Then it was too late. The damage was done.”

Casting the paper aside, Ria rose from the sofa. “Well, at least it’s over now. We are all safe from that man.”

Monty murmured softly so she couldn’t hear him, “I hope so. I very much hope so. Though somehow I doubt Geoffrey will give up easily. I must see you settled properly. And protected. I must.”

3

She was a sinner.

Ria slowly walked down the aisle of St. Margaret’s church. She had walked this route countless Sundays before, but today was different.

Not St. Margaret’s. The stone and timber in the thirteenth century church were unchanged. The stained-glass windows still reflected the same patterns on the gray stone floor. The scent of beeswax and pine was familiar.

The church congregation seemed the same. Although, as she now knew, appearances can be deceptive. She searched their faces—what secrets did they hide? On the surface, all looked normal. Everyone was sitting in the same oak pews. The Babcocks third row from the front on the right. The Marshams third row from the front on the left. As usual, Mrs. Marsham and Mrs. Babcock were casting sidelong glances at the other, each checking to make sure the other didn’t have a more expensive gown or mantle.

Today it was Ria who was different. She felt like a shameless sinner. With each step she took, an accusing word echoed up from the stone floor.

She was a disgrace. Brazen. Indecent. Immoral. Sinful. And thankful she had reached her pew.

She waited as the ladies, her late husband’s two aunts and two cousins, slipped into their second pew on the right. She was the last to slide in, straightening her black skirt as she sat down.

From the front left pew, Lady Glendowie gave her a polite nod, her purple turban slightly slipping to one side as she did so. Ria was sure in another couple of nods it was bound to fall off. She sighed—even that thought was not enough to lighten her mood.

She stared at the back of the oak pew in front. The grain of the wood was smooth, worn to a dull patina by the numerous hands that had touched it over the years.

She was a fraud. She had conspired to keep the St. James estate out of the hands of her late husband’s nephew. Yes, it was done for a good reason, but still—she bowed her head and briefly closed her eyes. Her husband had wanted her to inherit the estate—even if a mistake had been made with the wording of his will, it was his wish. She had only done what she must to carry out that wish.

The thought of what she needed to do had haunted her in the week leading up to the masquerade ball. She had dreaded it. Now it was over, and, well, that was where the shameless sinner part was applicable.

Since last night, Ria had been unable to keep locked up her memories of the masquerade. She had suppressed them for a week, but with the doctor’s examination over and his finding in her favor, she could keep them secure no longer. They had escaped.

Part of her had trouble believing that night had even happened. Monty’s herbal concoction, the champagne, and a masquerade filled with gods and goddesses in elaborate masks made it seem like a vivid dream at the center of which was the black-clad figure of Hades, her as his Persephone, and what they had done together.